"Good thing it wasn't your head, for be it known by man and bars, them as mixes up with wimmen has heads softer than their feet."
Jo laughed good naturedly. Then the three talked of the raft and the ungainly youth who had resorted to the homely but efficient expedient of boring a hole.
"I've seen some legs in my day," Jo Kelsy observed, "but none long as his'n."
"Ain't no longer than yours is, Dumplin'," said Old Bar. "Yours reaches to the ground and his'n don't go no further. According to my way of figgerin' his legs wasn't so numerous when it comes to length as his head. That galoot's got a long head."
A couple more of the gang dropped in, and the talk continued about the raft and the head raftsman. "Ever see anything like it? Wouldn't think a backwoodsman could tell such stories as he did last night, would ye?"
"Nor know enough to get an ark floating when she was stuck so tight that God hisself couldn't stick her no tighter."
"McNeil was figgerin' on her cargo to see what it was worth."
"Trust McNeil for figgerin' the worth of a cargo—or anything else."
"Ann Rutledge—eh?"
They laughed. Then one said, "I heard him tellin' Hill him and Ann was goin' to marry and have a big infare. But her Pappy won't let her till next year. She has to git more schoolin'."